Gold
by King Spoot
Summary: When predetermined barriers between dimensions are divided, the forbidden realm of Z Fighters is opened to realities that feared them. Yet one hero of the Cell Games arrives not to fight, having been mistakenly dragged through, and he finds a new struggle that punches won't cure, no matter how 'she' relies upon them.
1. Chapter 1

_Saiyans and Humans were not truly different lifeforms. When nurtured by the Kai, both races came to share the same physical compositions, differing only in spirit. Saiyans, gifted the ape spirit, could rise as mighty Oozarus. Earthlings, finding theirs to be wolves and foxes, produced anthromorphic offshoots and totemic fighters such as Yamcha. As such, Vegeta's distaste in Humans came not from bodies, only seeing their spirits and culture as weak. Trunk's birth did not bother him, the concept of half-bloods not quite true between Human and Saiyan unions, but rather how Bulma raised him. If a Human practiced Saiyan strength and pride, Vegeta would deem that Human Saiyan, just as he denounced Goku as Human, despite their common birthplace, and only when learning Goku spared Freiza to destroy the tyrant's ego, and not a pathetic and idiotic case of bleeding heart humanity, did he return to considering Goku the only remaining 'pure' Saiyan, albeit begrudgingly. What saved Trunks from such ridicule, even Goten and especially Gohan, came from matching blood types discovered by a shocked Bulma, and that the merging Saiyan and Human totems produced far more potent ki channels. Hybrids attained a Super Saiyan status far easier than 'normal' Saiyans. Most, as Vegeta reasoned, had greater control. The rare few who did not became unstable combatants, a brilliant explosion dwarfing his power before fading quickly. When those individuals learned to control their elements, they controlled Chaos._

_Few had Vegeta ever apologized to. Few did he deem superior to Saiyan kind. Gohan reached a level beyond Humanity, Saiyan-kind, and even the perceived Super element that dedicated Saiyans, and eventually rare Humans, could attain. Goku, a clown, he resented. Gohan, who took control of his anger, became someone he feared, respected, and ceased speaking ill will towards. A gentle soul, when pushed, became a killing machine that surpassed his pride, and Kakarot's forgiveness and dedication._

**_"May the Kais and spirits have mercy on the damn idiot that gets on this kid's bad side."_**

* * *

**]{- GOLD -}[**

Kaolla Su had to be an idiot. Mutsumi never admitted it, reasoning the hyperactive genius to be eccentric for a reason, as far as her favorite comics and television shows were concerned when representing scientists, but her stunts were too far hairbrained to be ignored. Case in point, building reactors in her room, exploding turtles hiding in the bathhouse, and firing off a teleporter to kidnap a random soul. Said soul passed through the devices pulsing and bending arches, a bizarre phenomenon for reinforced steel, and left crimson when skidding across the floor. He lay face first, limbs bent in all directions to sliding and turning, shaking slightly to wounds obtained by a supernatural force, the likes of which Kaolla doubted to be the transporter's doing. The mad giggling ceased when she spotted Mustumi turning pale, frenzied horror taking over upon Gohan planting bloodied hands to either side and shakily rising.

Their screams brought Naru dashing into the living area, the young lady skidding to a halt upon seeing a muscled warrior in tattered clothes kneeling before two occupants holding one another. Sinew tensed and joints popped, bringing the teenager upright and a dark gaze across those who coward and gawked. He stretched, turned towards Naru, blinked twice, took once step forth and collapsed face first. Blood dried by heated ki broke apart and dusted the area, wounds burned shut during exchanging power reopened, his body weary and broken to the rampage it suffered.

Kaolla had been the first to approach, prying from a quivering Mutsumi and waving back a shocked, appalled and ready-to-kick Naru. Kneeling beside Gohan, she heard a slight whisper, one that repeated when leaning closer. She frowned, not quite understanding the alien language this young man spoke, producing a data slate from one of several storage areas on her person to be held closer to him. Again he spoke, the device beeping and translating, "Is... he gone?"

Kaolla blinked. "Who's gone?"

Gohan ground nails into the floor, willing power back into strained limbs, in case he had to rise and give what little remained to battle. "Cell... Did I... win?"

Looking back, finding Mutsumi still shuddering and Naru shrugging, Kaolla played along and nodded. "Yes. He..." guessing gender, "is gone."

Gohan laughed and smiled, his one open eye gazing off into nothingness. "I won. I did it." He looked up, discovering the inn for the first time. "I'm in the afterlife," an ironic contemplation given the occupants, yet one understandable given visual similarities imagined of the various otherworldly hotels manned by ogres and Princess' Snake's servants. "Dad was right about the bath houses." His expression fell. "Mom will be upset. But I'm with dad, now. I'm with... dad." And consciousness slipped away, head bouncing back to the floor.

* * *

They did not quite know how to handle this in gentlest of manners. Whatever Kaolla did, Naru reasoned, brought a vile male to their pure dormitory, but not even she would kick a man who clearly went through hell. Mutsumi had learned enough in medical aid whenever Keitaro dropped from low orbit, but still nearly passed out when binding and setting an arm that had been hit by what looked to be an armor piercing explosive. Repeatedly. Kaolla sat there, elbow resting to propped knee, frowning over the data rapidly filling her scanner. "Muscle density, surpassing diamond's hardness one hundred and twenty times over. Blood pressure, still nominal despite what's painting our floorboards. Multiple fractures and dislocations, he shouldn't have been able to stand." She lowered the pad, sharply exhaled, and tapped the fighter on the head with it. "If Keitaro's immortal, then I just found a god."

"And how did you do just that?" Naru demanded, her arms crossed and glare deadly.

Kaolla pointed to the now silent pillars sticking out of what had been a television set. "Teleporter."

Naru eyed the device and huffed. "I see." After everything the energetic genius accomplished, she found no reason to doubt its validity. Breaking time and space to summon a wounded fighter, whose hide outclassed every resilient material known to man, believable, especially among those who channeled chi and kicked a (in her eyes) pervert through solid brick walls. To speak of perverts, what she had a problem grasping was why dear Kaolla thought it to be a good idea bringing a disgusting man into their home.

"Professor's going to kill me," Kaolla groaned.

"Not if I do so first," Naru muttered, missing the importance of such a name. "You brought him into our home."

"You don't understand, this isn't something so simple and misguided." Kaolla's timid contemplation gave pause to Naru's chiding. "I just summoned a world guardian. Oh, this is bad. Real bad."

The Molmolan lacking excited jitters and temptation to test the helpless Gohan further unsettled Naru. "Kaolla, what does that mean?"

Kaolla sighed. "Let's put it like this. This boy," whom she pointed at, "has enough chi to level a planet."

Mustumi could have sworn a _tock _sound effect came from Naru's blinking. "Say that again?" the violent dealer of justice demanded.

"He's strong," and to make sure Naru did not have the chance to scoff, laugh, or otherwise doubt this claim, Kaolla pried black rock off the fighter's knuckles. "See this? This isn't just a carbonized process. This is rock that has been heated enough to melt on his hand, which is still roughly intact. He punched something hard enough to turn it into lava."

Another presumed _tock _from Naru.

"So..." Mustumi timidly began, either refusing or being unable to understand the gravity of being near a man whose punches outclassed miniature nuclear strikes, "what do we do about him?"

* * *

Hyper-dense muscle is not light. Despite super-human abilities being augmented by raging ki, a Z Fighter's body still builds density to compensate for the strain when summoning power, unleashing thunderous blows and performing hairpin turns at supersonic speeds. Naru found this out quiet well, grunting and straining over Gohan's three hundred pound body, sans the extra two hundred in training gear. Cheeks puffed out and flushed, eyes crossed and quivering, she just made it into the bathhouse before releasing Gohan's collar and collapsing. Mutsumi gave up after nearly blowing out her back trying to lift an unnecessarily heavy boot. Kaolla burned out a makeshift tow motor, cursing the inn's lack of structurally supportive materials. That left Naru, who would be damned to ever let a man get the best of her, to drag five hundred pounds outside.

Both girls strained removing the weighted training gear, annoying Naru to no end that they would strip this man to wash, and upon finding his articles to be the cause of half her physical misery she landed a kick at one boot. His foot barely moved and she immediately regretted it, hopping up and down and cursing all males who ever existed. Boots, charred wristbands, those caused a minor earthquake when dropped, or so Mutsumi felt, and neither she nor Kaolla dared remove more than the strips that had been a vest, for one was timid and the other for once lacking mischievous curiosity.

"So, Kaolla," Mutsumi ventured, ignoring Naru's colorful language and promised gendercide in the background, "what was that thing you used to speak to him?"

"Hmm? My datapad? Just a little thingy I put together. Washu helped out."

"Oh. And who is Washu?"

"My professor and the one who keeps giving me all this cool stuff."

"Oh. You have a professor?"

"Mhmm! Private tutoring!"

"...to be kicked into their damn throats!" finished Naru, marching back to the other two. "Kaolla, this has to be... IS! Is the worst thing you have done!"

Kaolla snorted, "Ah, just help me get him in the water, will ya?"

Brow twitching, arms crossed, Naru made to refuse. "Why should I?"

"Because," Kaolla replied coolly, slowly looking back to Naru, "we do not want to upset this man, nor do we want him bleeding and stinking up the inn. And I doubt you want his vile, male smell filling the halls you- I mean we all consider our home. Our holy home. Our holy home of homeliness."

Give it to the unpredictable Kaolla to be the one finding reason with Naru. At the very least all she had to do was lower Gohan into the water. No scrubbing, no intimate touching, only drop him in to a small pool to heal and doze. Kaolla still had explaining to do, much more than usual, but at the very least this boy was not deliberately seeking perverted acts, much less having the capability to do so at the moment. Neither did she feel threatened to any corrupted thoughts, such as the ones Keitaro infected her with. A muscled body, perhaps, but not the strong, clean type she dared dream of, the sort belonging to the rare perfect man. This body had bulging veins, horrendous scars, and muscle form unnaturally blocky instead of smooth and round. No, she was not threatened by her own suppressed imagination, resolving to sit outside the bathhouse, cross her arms and eye Kaolla. "Now, then. Who is he, why did you bring him here, and how do we get rid of him?"

Unbeknownst to all three, even a frantic Mutsumi dashing past to collect her store of healing herbs stockpiled for Keitaro's need, Motoko had left for the bathhouse. Dismissing the girl's screams as nothing out of the ordinary, especially when discovering the remnants of Kaolla's machine that had been blown apart when used, the swordswoman found it proper to bathe. She would not dishonor her proud body with any filth, whether it sweat or a man's touch.

Mutsumi perked up, eyes wide in alarm, realizing Motoko had passed by in a bath robe and towel. Knowing full well what would transpire, she bolted away from the medicine cabinet, praying this less than comedic outcome would be avoided. Punching Keitaro, a common element. A wounded and defenseless boy, who she nearly passed out over when pushing an arm back into its socket, that lead to a fatality.

Between Naru's demands and Kaolla's constant replies of not knowing what happened and how to fix it, neither noticed Motoko strolling past, and she in return shrugged off the fuming and nervous snickering as commonplace. The girls did not react, not until Mutsumi flew over the threshold and screamed that Motoko entered the bathhouse. _Tock-tock-tock-click! _All three tumbled inside, just as a disrobing Motoko noticed the unconscious Gohan close by, and the blood and dirt, and _especially _male filth, filling the water and creeping her way.

* * *

AN: I do not own Love Hina or Dragonball Z.

With that out of the way, I'm trying a lighter writing style, one with more character interaction and less poetic and heavily detailed paragraphs. As for starting this piece, I've always been a Dragonball fan. It's a guilty pleasure, and nearly everyone knows what I mean by that.

Kamehameha *cough*

Love Hina, I just discovered (shocking, I know), and learned about a character that is presumably insecure, honor bound and quick to strike perceived wrongdoers (Keitaro). In the world of crossovers, I thought to myself that this character would benefit someone that could both ground and annoy her at the same time, instead of one slowly switching to the other. Gohan, someone who's kind but also deadly, intelligent, and really lacks the traits to be perverted. Keitaro's comedy is that his actions could be perceived as such, but not so much with Gohan.

Personally, I'm a Tien kinda guy, but his style of badassery and still caring for people without being subtle about it just doesn't fit in this. I will be using him at some point, but until then the epic Tribeam (or three eyed cowboy, if you're an Ocean Dub fan) will be sitting this out.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chi and Ki are both spiritual energy, and to the untrained both appear and flow in similar fashion. Chi, directed by focal points, allows great control over its flow and transfer, from leaping to rooftops to comically punching, somewhat safely, a victim into the neighboring village. Chi can be focused, it can be transferred between allies and opponents, it can manipulate all elements of the world, and it can prevent Keitaro from disintegrating upon atmospheric reentry._

_Ki is not so forgiving._

_When fully tapped into, Ki does not ignite at a specific location, its essence burning throughout the entire body. Ki blasts, flying, travelling between points at hypersonic speeds, these qualities define this power. Far more destructive, far more wild, this chaotic spiritual power is taught in extremely private schools. Unlike the more focused Chi, trained in large groups in a near militant form, Ki requires a one-on-one approach, usually from a father figure to son, and always by discovering oneself. Deadly Kendo schools rightfully fear the more wild Turtle schools. How can Samurai ever denounce a Ki Fighter's Honor, when the later's less evident traditions produce such capable fighters?_

_That, and bravery never has anything on ignorance to one's own personal safety, such as a Saiyan prince taking out three hundred miles worth of mountains in a supernova._

* * *

Naru prided herself in sensing and controlling chi, a natural born practitioner routinely kicking Keitaro through wooden walls, her comedic ability thankfully not hounded and perfected to a deadly skill. She felt all spiritual energy, noting where it channeled, reading any fearful man's emotions and the Hina House's collective ying-yang. Motoko she looked up to, a fellow practitioner and pervert hunter, but this time she doubted the near-idol's ability to counteract whoever, or whatever, Kaolla summoned. Chi could be harnessed at a specific point on the body, released through limbs to interact with the environment. This wounded warrior seemed to radiate his own brand of power at all locations, as if each cell in his body was a focal point.

Kaolla's giggling snapped her out of thoughts. "This is amazing! Look at these readings!" The pink, crab-shaped data pad wound up shoved under Naru's nose. "See? See? At resting state he's still burning like a reactor!"

"So I see," Naru nasally muttered, relying on a single finger to push the device away. She needed not a scanner to report the disturbing nature this new individual had. She routinely disciplined Keitaro, including any male so vile and immature among friends and family, but by no means was she stupid. Kicking a man who burned her sixth sense meant necessary discrete measures.

Kaolla continued to ogle the results, grinning ear to ear and bouncing in place. "Yes! He's indestructible! Finally! Someone to compete with the immortal manager!"

"Kaolla," Naru began, warily eyeing her hyperactive genius of a friend. Summoning an inter-dimensional being, not surprising in the least bit, especially given the antics and abilities of her reality. Tama, case in point. This time, the nuclear reactor hiding nutball _finally _went too far.

"And the professor will be soooooo happy!" the inventor sang, spinning on a heel with arms outstretched.

"Just... who is your professor?"

Kaolla stopped spinning, blinked, and happily rocked side to side. "The best professor ever! She's the one giving me the plutonium I need!"

That would explain a lot, ignoring who this person was, how this person gained hold of such a resource, and why Kaolla, KAOLLA, had been trusted with it.

"I see... And why did we drag him to the hot springs?"

"The Hina House's good feeling energy heals his kind faster!"

"His kind? Faster?"

Naru shook her head. Awakening this teenager, let alone healing him, rang soundly in the bad idea church, all gothic bells hammering away. Never mind that Haruka would demand answers and Motoko would see him for the vile, perverted male he possibly was-

"Kaolla... How are we going to explain this to the others?"

Kaolla tapped her chin. "Hrm. You know. I never thought about it just yet."

All questions and concerns were silence to a harsh scream in the dormitory. "Guys! Motoko's in the bathhouse! Guys! She's in the bathhouse!"

* * *

Motoko never stood a chance. Kaolla skidded barefoot over smooth stone, fell into a roll, and launched into her middle. _'Vile male' _did not have time to be a thought, both when looking at Gohan and struggling under water. The protege kendo practitioner struggled to regain footing, fighting the bulging-eye urge to breath in before breaking the surface, throwing the Molmolan into Mutsumi and knocking both into a neighboring pool. Motoko roared, whipping ebon hair back over a shoulder, rage settling momentarily on the two girls skipping as stones across a lake. Another splash alerted her to Naru's presence, the brunette now desperately blocking her path to an otherwise inevitable beating on the new male.

**"Naru! What is the meaning of this!" **came a spluttering scream, less in question and more to vent unbound agitation.

"Motoko," Naru pleaded, palms up before the irate swordswoman. "Just calm down, okay? Just calm down."

Motoko blinked, slowly looking back to Gohan, remembering that indeed she saw a male, and indeed someone had to be kicked through a wall. Until Naru got out of the way, finger pointing would have to suffice. **"Who is he!"**

Protecting a male, beyond the select few counted off on one hand, went well beyond Naru's character, and she knew that a proper self-kicking would be in order after the ordeal. For the time being, letting Motoko take a katana to a world destroyer, woobie or not, seemed to be the greatest mistake next to scheming alongside Mitsune. Gohan stirring brought full focus, her dashing over to the fighter leaving Motoko momentarily stunned.

Groans turned to a deep, ragged breath. Joints strained and ligaments threatened to tear even more. What kept him down, by sheer confusion, was the soaked young woman pushing on the one good shoulder, comparatively speaking. _"Ahn nil tikei sulp gret?" _he asked in the galactic tongue, one delivered by the Kai's through ancient shaman to each world in his universe. "What's going on right now?"

"Hold on, hold on," Naru pleaded. "Kaolla! Where's that translator thing!"

Finally catching on that this bath house existed not in the afterlife, Gohan nervously shifted focus across those gathered, stopping on one girl hauling ass through the pool and holding a data slate close to his jaw. "Seimp letle?" "What is that?"

"Hold on, here? Aha!" Naru leaned over, listening to the pad translate in its mechanical tone. "Hi, heh, I'm Naru. This is Kaolla," who cheekily waved, "Mutsumi," who rose out of the pool, spitting water like a fountain, "and Motoko," who glared back at him. "This is a translator, I think, and you're here at the Hinata House!"

He did not know who to warily eye more, the one who pulled a sword out of hammerspace or the two nervous girls with a leaf shaped data pad. "Errrrr, vidno," he cautiously greeted, and the device beeped, "Uh, hi." A few second passed, his blinking producing no sound to Mutsumi's mind, perhaps out of the seriousness of the situation. "What is that?" he inquired, nodding at the device, and he looked about, adding, "How did I..."

"Get here?" Kaolla finished with a grin. "Oh, this is my translator, like Naru said, and I teleported you here! You're my science exper-"

Never before had Naru's hand traveled so fast, clapping tight over Kaolla's mouth. "We rescued you!"

Clearly, this concept registered little, the Z Fighter lightly holding the broken arm, his Saiyan recuperation not yet sealing fractures and rebuilding muscle. Mutsumi saw Gohan's frown and made her way over, gingerly offering to see it with the herbalist medical kid still in hand, who in turn allowed the limb to be inspected with much trepidation given the new setting and the black haired woman's stare.

Motoko knew both Mutsumi and Kaolla to be naive when it came to the vile perversions that most men had. Naru, her only comrade in defending against disgusting males, now carefully nurturing this stranger, not booting him through a brick wall, something even her boyfriend still went through, took Motoko back. This required correcting at the earliest convenience. Whatever Naru device Naru held, its constant beeping and translating shifting to a video conference for a hectic Kaolla, or whoever the redheaded scientist was barking orders to the three surrounding him, intrigued the swordswoman little, her mindset opting to lock on target when the boy started to rise out of the water.

_"Yes, yes, excellent Little Kaolla! You've made great strides! Oh, this will be wonderful for the academy! Just don't let him out of your sight until I get there! Keep him under strict lock and key! We don't need Japan's government finding out about this one. Oh, and don't worry about his arm. That'll heal on its own. Okay, Little Kaolla? I'll be there within a month. I'll let you get back to hearing what he says. Make sure the Maple Recorder is still running. Oh, this is most excellent!"_

Kaolla tapped the screen, cutting the video call to a woman Gohan did not recognize, not that he knew anyone about him. Sharp eyes, more angular than theirs, yet not so different as to appear alien, returned to a nervous Mutsumi quivering while binding his arm. Kaolla's dismissive waving and repeated statements of it not being necessary did not persuade the determined medic. Naru sank halfway into the water, groaning about the household becoming far too adventurous for her taste. Motoko, still armed, noticed Gohan's tilted head and an unsure frown.

"Why is she naked?" the device beeped.

A glance, a shriek, and all hell broke loose. "Kaolla, Mutsumi, out of the way!" Motoko roared, katana rising overhead. "I will end this vile pervert!" Mutsumi's yelp, Kaolla's scrambling and Naru's demand to stop did not impede the Boulder Splitting chant, it's sudden shockwave pushing the girls to either side, path intent on blasting Gohan into the Pacific. Yet it never came to pass.

It took the mental gears some time to warm up for Motoko when steam cleared and chi subsided. There stood Gohan, reinforced against a force guaranteed to lift a body sky hi, his good arm slowly lowering to reveal a dark gaze. "I-impossible," she whispered, but her eyes lied not to the Kendo elite, and her grip on the katana found itself weakened.

Had he been Vegeta, this insult would have been Motoko's last. If Roshi, a nosebleed, confirming perversion. He stood in place, and Motoko cringed. He glared, and she nearly stepped back. He turned for the exit, and she felt dishonored. He had eyed her, not one blushing, shrugged off her most powerful attack, and turned his scarred back to her.

"H-hey! I'm not done with you!"

Clearly not, the swordswoman grabbing her robe and awkwardly marching out of the pool. Naru blocked her path, arms spread wide in a final stand. "Just what were you thinking!"

"Out of my way, Naru. That vile male-"

_Bad-bad-bad-bad-bad-bad-bad,_ Naru's thought process went. Kami surely intervened at that moment. "Motoko, stop! This is different!"

Motoko fumed, lowered katana snapping back to attention, her aura building back to a violent storm. "He bested my attack and has the nerve to turn his back to me!"

"He's wounded already!"

"Surely for crimes against innocent women! What has come over you, Naru? You're protecting him!"

"He's... uh, my cousin!"

Mutsumi flinched at the tocking sound produced from so many blinking "Your cousin?"

"Yes!"

"Your cousin."

"Yes! Yes!"

"That does not excuse him-"

"It was my fault!"

Much can be said about Motoko and Naru, their relation built on extensive trust to always stand side by side when it came to the opposite sex. A one sided, if not one dimensional characteristic, Motoko's barely admitted insecurity matched Naru's admittedly spoiled nature, and to admit otherwise threw the Kendo woman off. Naru not acting like Naru meant someone influenced her, or this was one of the extremely rare and extremely important exceptions.

"Motoko, please, I know how this looks, but he's been in a fight."

"That I saw, Naru," Motoko growled out. "His arm appears damaged by a skilled attack, the sort only my elders are capable of. He is dangerous, that I see and feel. To bring him here puts us all in grave danger."

"Well, yeah, it wouldn't be the first time Kaolla's invention put us at risk," Naru mused, attempting to diffuse tension with humor. A Sarah style kick in her mental recluse left her stupidly blinking and clapping a hand over the mouth that spilled the beans.

* * *

Gohan collapsed against the wall, landing heavily on his good shoulder, clutching the one slowly regaining feeling. Pain returned, forcing an eye closed, sweat billowing from blood encrusted forehead. "Where am I?" he choked out. "Tien. Yamcha. Mister Piccolo. Where are you guys? What happened to me? I don't recognize any of this!"

Chi did not fully register with his sensing ability, this martial energy that felt too prideful and honor bound to ki's wild, explosive form. He had been ripped out of a Kai friendly reality and awakened only to be attacked. The screaming and frantic looks he easily deduced as a spur of the moment defense to a presumed hostility, but still, he had been attacked.

Sensitive ears picked up bare feet padding behind him, a tanned hand gently pressing between steeled shoulders. That jolted pain up his spine, a sharp hiss leaving the hand quickly pulling away. Over a shoulder he looked, a more gentle and surprised contemplation when seeing the Molmolan smiling.

"Uh, sorry, but hi! I'm Kaolla!"

In perfect galactic tongue, gifted to human forms in his universe, this girl spoke to him. Apparently this grinning inventor, who blew out a tow motor trying to haul his muscle weighted body into the pool, who prodded Naru's ego and strength to complete the task, was full of little surprises.

Kaolla blinked, uncomfortable with the silence. "Do you understand me?"

Gohan slowly nodded. "Uh... huh." Another pause. "You can understand me too?" A redundant question, but it felt safer to cautiously enter a conversation with these strangers. That, and finally speaking to someone helped make him feel less alone.

Kaolla rapidly nodded. "Mhmm! Mhmm! The professor taught me! I'm the one who brought you here!"

"Brought me here?" Gohan looked around, a more automatic reaction than specifically to study the white walls and hardwood floors. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to see someone from another dimension!" Kaolla's grin turned into a crooked smile, head tilted. "And... you were hurt."

At the very least, Kaolla's good nature was infectious. Not quite as uneasy, Gohan straightened and faced the inventor. "Thank you, I guess. I can't say I expected being teleported, but thanks. I think."

Kaolla beamed. "Mhmm! Mhmm! So what's your name?"

"Uh, my name's Gohan."

"Ooh, that makes me hungry! I could go for some rice!" Kaolla tapped her chin. "Kinda funny that your named after food. Mhmm! Yummy! I need a banana now!"

Apparently, certain words in his language mimicked hers, much to his chagrin. He looked up to his dad, not so much for the man's wild appetite that lead up to his name. '_Sir, what do you want to name your son?' 'You know, I could go for some rice about now!' 'Sir?' 'Yup, rice!' _And the rest was history.

* * *

"So... that's what happened."

Naru's explanation somehow made more sense, perhaps due to Kaolla being involved. Nope, that was it, say Kaolla's name and every strange occurrence made sense. Naru's lying required investigation later. A man walked freely in their domain. Keitaro barely passed full wrath considering his manager status. This man lacked anything safeguarding from punishment. He blocked her thundering strike and that especially had to be rectified.

"I will give no promise to his well being," the freshly robed samurai glowered, fist shaking. "Only my honor restored for what he saw. I will protect our sanctity and restore justifiable pride to the ability entrusted in me by the glorious God Cry School."

Naru lost her grip, spinning towards Motoko as Mutsumi cried and plummeted back into the water. "What?! Motoko, wait!"

A pink blur caught Gohan's attention, Motoko's attire matching flushed complexion. Redrawing the katana, her elbow caught the stair running Naru square between the eyes, knocking the brunette back outside, just as a wailing Mutsumi slipped and skidded across the floor between the swordswoman's legs, vanishing under the bunching up rug.

"Male!" Motoko cried, "face me!"

Gohan did not understand Japanese, nor did he need to. The expression and stance spoke for itself. He stood there, glare returning, considering proper actions to safely get out of this.

"Wait, wait, hold on!" Kaolla chimed in, skidding off to the side and reactivating her data pad. "Okay, begin!"

Focus shifting from Kaolla to Motoko, Gohan muttered, the device translating, "I'm not going to fight you."

Understanding the device's purpose, its beeping producing Japanese, Motoko pointed her sword at the Z Fighter. "You have trespassed and laid your disgusting eyes on my body."

"I don't care," Gohan growled out, lightly swaying in place. "I didn't come here to watch you. I just want to go home."

This response took Motoko back. "You... don't care?"

Gohan shuddered, nerves refitting back together to the demand of a Saiyan spirit, reminding him well that the arm had been broken and burned. "Listen. I didn't come here by choice. She brought me here," and he looked to Koalla. "I appreciate trying to help, but I just want to go home."

"Vile... filthy..." Motoko fumed.

"Motoko, listen!" Naru pleaded, ignoring the rather large bump on her forehead. "He's hurt! You don't need to do this!"

"I do!" Motoko snapped, katana clenching hand shaking. "While he still stands, justice has to be given!"

A heavy thump and groan marked Gohan collapsing on the ground a second time, sensation returning to cracked ribs and bruised organs. Everyone stared, quite shocked at the ironic moment. Mutsumi's scrambling broke the silence, a vain attempt to begin wrapping an already healing arm.

"And there you have it," Naru deadpanned, hand slapping to forehead, immediately regretting it afterward.

* * *

_AN: Ignoring the accidental revelation of Kaolla's mysterious professor last chapter, I've returned to continuing this little story after Cell's defeat. We'll be ignoring lore after that saga, a bit of honoring to Toriyama's original plan to end the series there with Gohan as the new protector. So much character development to tap into!_

_For a little explanation, the idea of the DBZ language being universal was an idea of mine. The Kai's and creators gifting it to explain why the alien races understood one another, and returning a bit of spiritual fantasy the series used to have. It was also a way to separate their world from ours. DB and DBZ showed us a world built by merging several cultures, from Japanese to Russian to Cherokee. It is similar to ours yet still different in that cheesy sort of way you can't help but adore. It's why DBZ is appreciated by so many cultures, and having Gohan speak Japanese (or English) just seemed to ruin the element. _

_Motoko fits the bill as the independent, strong willed woman with a weak inner personality, something that really can't be strengthened with a kind, gentle soul such as Keitaro, nor appropriate to destroy with an even more abusive relation. I have plans for Gohan, someone that can provide the right kind of strength and care to not only improve her bitter attitude but also build her inner confidence without sacrificing the underlying characteristics of being independent. To me this is a repeating mistake for stories involving Motoko warming up to people, she ends up losing her image as an ass kicker. _

_KDS1989, that's going to be a big theme in this. The Love Hina series had several characters taking their strength and abuse for granted. Gohan may not be an invincible character, but it is just too tempting to introduce someone who cannot or will not take it. I've seen many stories of Keitaro snapping, but never one of a superior fighter shrugging off their earth shattering blows.  
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_Suggestions and critical investigations are appreciated, from spelling mistakes to out-of-character elements requiring correction. _


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